NUMB, Judy Colella [i am malala young readers edition .TXT] 📗

“Not that…uh, right. So! Fitz! Did you want to go outside and throw the ball around for a while before lunch?” He had caught himself about to make a remark about how Jett’s throwing skill wasn’t surprising, considering his Olympic and athletic record. Apparently, Jett had realized this and glared pleasantly, stopping him.

“Nah, not unless I have someone to throw to.” Fitz tucked up his legs and began to sing. He did that, it seemed, whenever he wanted to be ignored. If anyone tried to talk to him while he was doing this, he’d stop long enough to say, “Can’t you see I’m trying to sing? Leave me alone!” and then return to it. His singing voice was horrible, but this behavior was somehow relaxing for the man, so no one made him stop.

The younger man, who went by “Windowpane,” and which everyone knew was a nickname, shuffled up to Jett. “Hey, N, you gonna play Free Cell later?”

“Not tonight,” the orderly answered instead. “He has to work on strengthening his foot and ankle after lunch, and then has a private session with Dr. Rufino.”

“Too bad. I like watching him never lose.” Windowpane burst into laughter that was just this side of manic, and left the room.

Shaking his head and smiling at the retreating back of the strangely-named patient, the orderly turned to Jett. “You’ve done really well, today, Mr. N. How do you feel?”

Jett flexed his shoulder, gave a slight wince, then made the sign for “little” with his thumb and finger.

“Huh. That’s better than yesterday, though.” The orderly looked pleased. “I’ll let the therapist know. He wants to make sure you don’t overdo it.”

After one of the patients had come up with the “Mr. Nobody” reference, Jett had been called that for several weeks, but eventually it got abbreviated to “Mr. N,” and now many of the patients were calling him “N.” He never indicated that the name was a problem for him, so it stuck. Even his brother would call him that when he visited.

Jett seemed, finally, to be recovering in a meaningful way, and all were pleased with his progress. Except.

Except that the only person he ever actually spoke to with words by writing his thoughts, was his brother. Until he began communicating that way with the doctors, regardless of how physically fit he became, he wasn’t going to be allowed to leave without a whole lot of legal interference from the outside. Dr. Rufino had gotten permission from the hospital’s Board to detain Jett, despite his having checked himself in. There was, they all agreed, sufficient proof that the young man was still too unstable to be allowed out. Not that he was a danger to anyone but himself, but that was reason enough, they felt, to keep him there until deemed capable of handling life in a normal way once again.

Of course, Jett knew nothing of this, but what he did know and how he felt about it all was anybody’s guess. The other thing of which Jett knew nothing was the contents and import of the devastating email his mother-in-law had sent.

How he handled that information would determine his entire future.

 

*******

 

A lot of thinking, of weighing the possible outcomes, of considering things like impact, practicality and how to even talk about it, had gone into Jax’s decision to bring his parents in on what he knew. It had taken him a full month, during which he’d called Chara demanding details, and done a lot of research into international law and private-investigation organizations that got him nowhere. He had visited Jett twice, but couldn’t see the profit in telling him what was going on. He had hoped to fix the problem himself, but finally had to admit it was beyond his ability. So now, having made that decision to tell his parents, he saw it would not be easy. But what had been since the day they were told about the crash?

“Honey, why are you pacing?”

Jax halted in the middle of the kitchen, his untouched cup of coffee growing cold in his hand. He put it on the counter. Faced his parents who were sitting at the breakfast bar dividing the room. This is going to be a bitch. “Um, I have something to tell you that’s going to upset you a whole lot.”

Celia half-stood. “What happened, Ajax? Is Jett all right?”

“He’s fine. For now. This…this is something else, something…oh, hell!” He stared hard at the floor, dreading the next words crowding into the front of his mind, demanding to be shown the exit.

“Son, let’s hear it. Spit it out. We’ll deal with whatever it is together, okay?”

He nodded, looked back at them and said, “Atarah isn’t dead.”

After a long, tight silence, Celia whispered, “What are you talking about?”

No going back… “Chara sent an email to Jett. I saw it by accident – he was supposed to get it, uh, later, I guess. I mean, she knows he went off somewhere, but I got the impression she believed he’d be back soon and wanted him to know what really happened.”

“Chara…” Celia practically choked on the name. “Are you saying she had something to do with this? That she lied to me? To us? To Jett?”

“Yes, but she did it to protect ‘Tarah. She was going to tell Jett about it immediately, but something went wrong.”

“Ajax, I’m a few seconds away from calling that woman and giving her hell, so before I do, I recommend you fill us in on the whys and wherefores.” Bryson, eyes like a storm, had gotten to his feet.

“Okay. Please sit down, Dad.”

He complied, but slowly.

“Thank you. Okay. You know Seth was terribly sick and needed an operation, yes? It seems Chara couldn’t find a doctor who would risk doing that operation, and it looked like he was going to die within a few weeks of the onset, or whatever it is you call that. And then this neurologist contacted her. Said he’d examine her husband at least, and then tell her whether or not he’d operate.” He scowled, remembering Chara’s next words. “Anyhow, he went to Greece, examined Seth, and then – then he told Chara that he’d do it, but that she would have to meet his price.” Not wanting to so much as give voice to what that man’s price was, Jax fell silent and began pacing again.

“For the love of God, Ajax, get to the damn point!”

“Sorry, Dad. The point. Right. The son-of-a-bitch said his price was Atarah. Seems he saw her photograph in an arts magazine several years ago and became obsessed with her. Of course, that isn’t how he put it. He had the gall to tell Chara he was in love with her daughter, had actually been stalking her all this time. He had cut out every photo he could find in the gossip papers, magazines, art stuff – and he’d been following her wherever she went. Said he would save Seth’s life in exchange for Atarah becoming his. Not his wife, his. Period. He wanted to own her, to, I don’t know, make her his toy or some such thing. And when Chara said she had just gotten married, he said he didn’t care. That if necessary, he’d kill her husband! He’d better never cross my path, the bastard!”

“And what did Chara do?” Celia had gone pale for several minutes, but was flushed with anger when she asked this.

“Arranged to have the pilot jump out with ‘Tarah and crash the plane when they were almost at Paros, but still out over the water. A friend was waiting there with a boat. But something went wrong, and the plane crashed closer than it was supposed to, I think she said. I don’t really remember – I’ll show you the email later. The thing is, ‘Tarah was hit by some of the debris and got a severe head injury. She hadn’t even known about any of this!” He clenched his fists, but then made himself ease up enough to continue. “They brought her to a friend’s home as planned, but couldn’t get any doctors involved because Chara was afraid it would get out that she hadn’t been on the stupid plane when it went down.” He stopped pacing and sat opposite his mother. “Whatever. Anyway, the long and short of it is that she has amnesia. Doesn’t know who she is or what happened.”

Bryson shook his head, unconsciously covering one of his wife’s hands with his own. “As infuriating as this is to learn, I don’t understand why it’s as bad as your behavior is telling us it is. What haven’t you said?”

“The proverbial plot thickened quite a bit after that, and what I haven’t told you is the reason it took me a month to say anything to you at all. And don’t give me that look, Mom. Listen. You’ll get why I waited, why I had to be sure it was something I should tell you.” He took a long, deep breath, blew it out slowly, and continued. “Chara let the doctor know about the crash, indicating that her daughter was dead. By this time, he’d already performed the operation and Seth was going to be all right. She ended up paying the guy over a million dollars for the operation, but said she felt her daughter’s safety was worth it. After he left to go back to his clinic in…wherever, Chara arranged to have ‘Tarah brought to the house to work as a servant. That way, she’d have her back, be able to keep an eye on her, and…all that. She told me that since ‘Tarah’s such a high-profile person, someone might have recognized her. So she cut her hair real short, dressed her in ugly maid-like clothes, and almost never spoke English in order to reinforce ‘Tarah’s Greek. And since everyone thought she was dead, no one was expecting to see her, so in a way, she was hiding in plain sight whenever she went shopping and stuff.”

“And there’s more. Stop rambling.”

“Yes. Sorry, Mom. The doctor was supposed to come back for the last of his follow-up visits. The previous ones took place while ‘Tarah was still recovering from her head injury and was at that other woman’s house. Who, by the way, they told ‘Tarah was her mother.”

“Things this complicated never end well,” Bryson muttered. He took a sip of coffee and almost spat it out. “Yuck. Cold.”

Celia jumped up. “I’ll get you a fresh cup. If I don’t do something, I’m going to scream. Please keep talking, Ajax. I can hear you.”

I would hope so, Mom – you’re only a few feet away. “Well, yeah. So Mrs. J was going to arrange for ‘Tarah to be at what she believed was her mother’s house when the doctor came, but he changed his plans at the last second, and showed up three days early. ‘Tarah got sent to Athens several hours before he got there so he wouldn’t see her, but it seems she was still suffering from headaches. They had told her she had a neurological condition, which was why she had so many gaps in her memory.”

On the other side of the room, Celia snorted. “How clever.”

“Sure was. Well, because of that, and because she’s the one who took the phone call from the doc saying he was going to get there early, she was possibly reminded that he was a neurologist. She must have put two and two together, and concluded he might be able to help her with her, uh, condition.” Jax swallowed hard, reminded sharply of the other thing, the one he really, really didn’t want to discuss. “So, um, she came back early from her shopping trip in order to see him. Chara was upstairs when they met, so doesn’t know what was said. All she knows is what one of her other maids told her – that ‘Tarah spoke with the doctor, and they left together. That night, he called Chara, said